


Ungodly Hour

by scarletbloo



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 08:00:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25559947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletbloo/pseuds/scarletbloo
Summary: Nicky is crushing hard on a bubbly soccer playing sorority sister. It’s unusual for her to ever be into anyone like this, and all she wants is to be on her radar. Popular girl Jaida is captain of the basketball team, and while she’s usually smart, French just isn’t her forte. Lucky for her, Nicky is a native speaker, so she makes it her mission to get her as her tutor.
Relationships: Nicky Doll/Jaida Essence Hall
Comments: 13
Kudos: 22





	1. one

Nicky snuck a look in Jan Sport’s direction, her heart tingling as she absorbed her beauty. She sighed, knowing the preppy, popular sorority girl had absolutely no idea she even existed. It was laughable that she ever entertained the idea of a relationship with her, even if it was only in the late hours of the night, a fantasy to procrastinate her studies with. But with her long blonde hair, muscular arms and smiling eyes, how  _ couldn’t  _ Nicky be so intrigued by her? This was a new feeling. Nicky hardly ever found herself interested in anyone, let alone a woman. It was surreal to her, but it somehow felt right.

She cast her eyes away from Jan and tried to focus on the Professor at the front of the lecture hall. Unsurprisingly, it was nothing of value to Nicky. Miss Coulee was voicing her disappointment with the class after 70% of the class had gotten less than a C in the last exam. Nicky rolled her eyes, looking down at the big red “A!” circled on her own paper. Despite this achievement, she was regretting her decision to take French. Sure, it being her first language definitely made the classes easier, but left her so unsatisfied with how little she had to push herself to pass. 

“Of  _ course _ you got an a”, Gigi whispered to Nicky. 

She had a defeated look on her face and Nicky felt a pang of sympathy for the girl. Gigi and Nicky weren’t close, but seeing as they’d been sitting next to each other every French lecture since September, they’d gotten to know a fair bit about each other. Like Nicky, Gigi was a fashion major but was taking French so she could “make it big in Paris one day” and Nicky knew academics wasn’t her strong suit. 

“Yeah well,” Nicky smiled sweetly, “French is my language, fashion is yours.”

Gigi seemed content with that answer and nodded satisfactorily as Coulee dismissed the class and all that could be heard was the snapping shut of laptops and notebooks and friendly chatter.

Jan lingered by the door giggling with her friends and Nicky’s gaze locked in on her like a missile. She was beautiful, and she could help but trace each curve of her body with her eyes. She felt her hands go clammy as she found herself lost in her animated expressions. Jan was different to Nicky’s image of a popular girl, she didn’t strut around campus like she owned the place or go through millions of relationships. She radiated positive energy and it just made Nicky all the more eager to get to know her. She wasn’t usually this into people, but Jan Sport had turned her into a pile of mush.

“You’re staring again.” Gigi’s teasing voice brought a blush to Nicky’s cheeks. She had caught her staring at Jan in awe on multiple occasions and was one of the very few people she’d actually admitted the crush to. The only other person who she’d told was her roommate and best friend, Widow. But her other friends? Definitely not. They were all art majors, and while Jan was taking music, it wasn’t really the same thing. Nicky guessed it made them the artsy crowd, and therefore substantially less popular. With the exception of Gigi and Widow, who had been in an on and off relationship with a soccer player since freshman year, Nicky’s friends spent lunch breaks talking as much shit as they could about Charles College’s elite. And it was somewhat justified. Most of the popular kids were complete pieces of shit. 

Case in point - Jaida Essence Hall, Charles College’s star athlete. The girl walked around like she owned the place, and Nicky guessed she kind of did. At the snap of a finger someone would appear at her side, eager to grant any and every wish. Or jump into her lap. Or stick their tongue down her throat. She didn’t look as confident as usual right then though, sitting fists curled around the edge of her paper in the lecture hall. Everyone else, including Coulee, had left, but Jaida remained in her seat. She must have failed the test too, but Nicky didn’t feel much sympathy for the girl. Charles college was best known for its Basketball, with its best players usually ending up in the pros, and during their years at Charles, they’d get handed everything on a silver platter. Maybe it was unfair, and a tiny bit vindictive, but Nicky got a sense of triumph from knowing that Coulee was failing the captain of the women’s basketball team along with everyone else. 

“Wanna grab something to eat?” Gigi asked as she gathered her books.

“Can’t, I have to finish up all of last week's design work.” Nicky got up, but didn’t follow her to the door, “Go on ahead. I need to check the schedule before I go, I can’t remember when my next tutorial is.”

“Okay,” Gigi said, “I’ll see you later!”

“Later!” Nicky called after her. 

At the sound of her voice, Jan paused in the doorway and turned her head. It was impossible to stop the flush that rose in Nicky’s cheeks. This was the first time they’d ever made eye contact, and she didn’t know how to respond. In the end, she settled for a small nod of greeting. There. Cool, casual yet wouldn’t come off as rude. Her heart skipped a beat when the corner of Jan’s mouth lifted into a faint grin. She waved in response, and then she was gone. Nicky stared at the empty doorway. Her pulse exploded in a gallop. After six weeks of breathing in the same air in the stuffy lecture hall, Jan Sport had finally noticed her. She wished she was brave enough to go after her. Maybe ask her to grab a coffee. Or dinner. Or brunch - hell, is brunch even a big thing in America? But her feet stayed glued in place because she was a total coward. She was terrified she’d say no, but even more terrified she’d say yes. 

Nicky was in a good place when she started college. Her issues solidly behind her, her guard lowered. She was ready to date again, and she did. She dated several guys, but other than her ex, Kayla, none of them had been female, and none of them had made her body tingle the way Jan Sport did, and that freaked her out. 

_ Baby steps. _ That was her therapist's favourite piece of advice, and she couldn’t deny that the strategy had helped her a lot. Focus on the small victories, Sasha had always advised. So, today’s victory, she nodded at Jan and she waved at her. Next class, maybe she’d wave back. And the one after that, maybe she’d bring up the coffee, dinner or brunch idea. She took a breath as she headed down the aisle, clinging to that feeling of victory, however miniscule it may be.

Jaida had failed. She’d fucking failed. For the last 15 years before she’d joined Charles College, they had handed out A’s like tic tacs. But the year she decided to take a French class? She had gotten stuck with Shea Coulee. It was official. This woman was her archenemy. Just the sight of her flowery handwriting—which filled up every inch of available space in the margins of Jaida’s midterm—made her want to scream, rip up the page, and leave education indefinitely. Jaida had been passing all her other classes, but this (almost ironic) F in French was completely bringing her average down. Normally, she had no problem keeping her G.P.A up. Despite what she knew a lot of Charle’s population believed, she wasn’t dumb. And the worst thing about Charles? Their dean demanded excellence—academically and athletically. While other schools were lenient toward athletes, Charles has a zero-tolerance policy. When she spoke to Coulee before class, she’d bluntly told her that unless she was going to find her own private tutor, she’d have no choice but to turn up to extra tutorials which overlapped with basketball practice. It really was a lose-lose situation.

Jaida’s frustration manifested itself in the form of an audible groan, and from the corner of her eye, she saw someone jerk in surprise. Jaida jumped too, because here she thought she was wallowing in her misery alone. However, the girl from the back row had stuck around and was headed towards Coulee’s desk. Staci? Selena? Jaida couldn’t remember her name, probably because she’d never thought to ask for it before. She was pretty, though. A lot prettier than Jaida had ever realised. Perfect features, dark hair, a petite hourglass figure. How had she never noticed her before now? Her skinny jeans clung to a round, perky ass and her round breasts peaked slightly out of her v neck. 

“Everything okay?” the girl asked with a pointed look. Jaida murmured a reply under her breath. She really wasn’t in the mood to talk right then. 

The girl raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow in Jaida’s direction, “Sorry, was that english?” 

Jaida balled up her paper and scraped her chair back, “I said everythings fine.”

“Okay, then,” The girl shrugged and continued down the steps. As she picked up the clipboard that contained the tutorial schedule, Jaida flung on her jacked, then shoved her pathetic midterm into her backpack and zipped it up. The dark-haired girl headed back to the aisle. Sophie? Sabrina? The S sounded right, but the rest was a mystery. She had her midterm in hand, but Jaida didn't sneak a peek because she assumed she failed just like everyone else.

Jaida let her pass before she stepped into the aisle. She followed her up to the exit, suddenly realizing how tiny she was compared to herself—she was one step below her yet could see the top of her head. Just as they reached the door, the girl stumbled on absolutely nothing and the books in her hand clattered to the floor.

“Shit. I’m such a klutz.”

She dropped to her knees and so did Jaida, because contrary popular belief, she wasn’t heartless, and the polite thing to do was help her gather her books.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that. I’m fine,” she insisted.

But Jaida’s hand had already connected with her midterm, and her jaw dropped when she saw her grade.

“Fucking hell. You aced it?” Jaida demanded.

The girl gave a sweet smile. “Well, I  _ am  _ French. I thought you’d have been able to tell from the accent.”

“Holy shit.” Jaida felt like she’d just bumped into Coco fuckin’ Chanel and she was dangling the secrets to her universe under her nose. “Can I read your answers?”

Her brows quirked up again. “That’s rather forward of you, don’t you think? We don’t even know each other.”

Jaida rolled her eyes. “I’m not asking you to take your clothes off, baby. I just want to peek at your midterm.”

“Baby? Goodbye forward, hello presumptuous.”

“Would you prefer miss? Ma’am maybe? I’d use your name but I don’t know it.”

“Of course you don’t.” She sighed. “It’s Nicolette. Nicky for short.” Then she paused meaningfully. “Jaida.”

Okay, she was way off on the S thing. And Jaida didn’t miss the way she emphasized her name as if to say,  _ Ha! I know yours, bitch!  _ Nicky collected the rest of her books and stood up, but Jaida didn't hand over her midterm. Instead, she hopped to her feet and started flipping through it. As she skimmed her answers, her spirits plummeted even lower, because if this is what Coulee was looking for, she was screwed. There was a reason she was a geography major, for gods sake—she dealt in facts. Black and white. This happened at this time to this person and here was the result. Nicky’s answers focused on detailed analysis on texts Jaida couldn’t even translate in the first place. 

“Thanks.” Jaida gave her the booklet, then cracked her knuckles. “Hey, listen. Do you…would you consider…” she shrugged. “You know…”

Nicky’s lips twitched as if she was trying not to laugh. “Actually, I don’t know.”

Jaida let out a breath. “Will you tutor me?”

Her grey eyes—slightly green and surrounded by thick black eyelashes—went from surprised to skeptical in a matter of seconds.

“I’ll pay you,” Jaida added hastily.

“Oh. Um. Well, yeah, of course I’d expect you to pay me. But…” She shaked her head. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

Jaida bit back her disappointment. “C’mon, do me a solid. If I fail this makeup, my GPA will implode. Please?” She flashed a smile, the one that made her dimples pop out and never failed to make people melt.

“Does that usually work?” she asked curiously.

“What?”

“The winning innocent pageant girl smile… Does it help you get your way?”

“Always,” the taller girl answered without hesitation.

“Almost always,” Nicky corrected. “Look, I’m sorry, but I really don’t have time. I’m already juggling school and work, and with the winter showcase coming up, I’ll have even less time.”

“Winter showcase?” Jaida said blankly.

“Right, I forgot. If it’s not about basketball or your big pageants, then it’s not on your radar.”

“Now who’s being presumptuous? You don’t even know me.”

There’s a beat, and then she sighed. “I’m a fashion major, okay? And the arts faculty puts on two major displays every year, the winter showcase and the spring one. The winner gets a five thousand dollar scholarship. It’s kind of a huge deal, actually. Important industry people fly in from all over the country to see it. Fashion houses, investors, big magazines…. So, as much as I’d love to help you—”

“You would not,” Jaida grumbled. “You look like you don’t even want to talk to me right now.”

Her little you-got-me shrug was grating. “I have to go finish up some designs. I’m sorry you’re failing this course, but if it makes you feel better, so is everyone else.”

Jaida narrowed her eyes. “Not you.”

“I can’t help that I was born into a french speaking household.”

“Well, I want your help.”

Jaida was two seconds from dropping to her knees and begging her, but she edged towards the door. “You know there’s a study group, right? I can give you the number for—”

“I’m already in it,” Jaida muttered, embarrassed.

“Oh. Well, then there’s not much else I can do for you. Good luck on the makeup test. Baby.”

She darted out the door, leaving Jaida staring after her in frustration. Unbelievable. Everyone at this college would have cut their leg off to help her out. But this girl? Ran away like she’d just asked her to give up her first born so they could give it to Rumplestiltskin. And now Jaida was right back to where she was before Nicky-not-with-an-S gave her that faintest flicker of hope. Completely fucking screwed.

  
  



	2. two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaida is visited by a surprise visitor.

Jaida was pretty sure her roommates were wasted when she walked into the living room after study group. On the coffee table sat two shot glasses, and two rather large bottles of cheap prosecco. Heidi and Jackie were battling each other in a heated game of Shinobi Striker (Jackie had obviously been roped into it by Heidi) their gazes glued to the flat screen as they furiously clicked their controllers. Heidi’s gaze shifted slightly when she noticed Jaida in the doorway, and her split second of distraction cost her.

“Fuck yes! !” Jackie crowed as she won the game.

“Aw, for fuck’s sake!” Heidi leveled a dark glare at Jaida. “What the hell, Jai? I just lost because of you.”

Jaida didn’t answer, because now she was distracted—by the half naked make out session happening in the corner of the room. Akeria was at it again. Some guy Jaida had never met before - bare-chested and barefoot, was sprawled in the armchair while Akeria, in nothing but a lacy black bra and booty shorts sat astride him and grinded against his crotch.

Akeria gave a slightly awkward giggle. “Jaida! Where’ve you been?” she slurred.

She went back to kissing the guy before Jaida could answer the drunken question.

For some reason, Akeria liked to hook up everywhere but her bedroom. Seriously. Every time one of the other girls turned around, she was in the midst of some form of debauchery. On the kitchen counter, the living room couch, the dining room table—girl’s gotten it on in every inch of the off-campus house the four girls shared. But she was completely unapologetic about it, and Jaida respected that.

“Girl, I’ve been texting you for the past hour,” Heidi informed her

Her tiny frame hunched forward as she poured herself another glass of prosecco. Heidi might’ve been short, but she was an excellent dribbler, one of the best Jaida had ever played with, and also the best friend she’d ever had. 

“Seriously, where the hell have you been?” Heidi grumbled.

“Study group.” Jaida grabbed another glass out the cupboard and poured her own drink. “What’s this surprise you kept blabbing about?”

She could always tell how drunk Heid was based on the grammar of her texts. And tonight she must be shit-faced, because Jaida had to go full-on Sherlock to decrypt her messages. Suprz meant surprise. Gyabh had taken longer to decode, but she thought it meant get your ass back here? But who knows with Heidi.

From her perch on the couch, she grinned so broadly it’s a wonder her jaw didn’t snap off. She jerked her thumb at the ceiling and said, “Go upstairs and see for yourself.”

Jaida narrowed her eyes. “Why? Who’s up there?”

Heidi giggled. “If I told you, then it wouldn’t be a surprise.”

“Why do I get the feeling you’re up to something?”

“Damn,” Akeria piped up. “You’ve got some major trust issues, Jai.”

“Says the girl who has had many one night stands in my bed.”

Akeria grinned. “Aw, come on, you love me really.”

“Come on,” Heidi groaned. “Just go upstairs. Trust me, you’ll thank us for it later.”

The knowing look they exchanged eased Jaida’s suspicion, even if it was just a little bit. She stole another glass of prosecco on her way out. She didn’t’t drink much during the season, but Coach had given the team the week off to study for midterms and they still had two days of freedom left. Her teammates seemed to have no problem going out every night then playing flawlessly the next day. But Jaida? Pres alone gave her a rip-roaring headache the morning after. Once she was back to a six-days-a-week practice schedule, her alcohol consumption would drop to the usual one/five limit. One drink on practice nights, five after a game. No exceptions. She planned on taking full advantage of the time she had left.

The captain headed upstairs to her room. The master bedroom. She was not above playing the I’m-your-captain card to snag it and it was worth the argument her teammates put up. Private bathroom, baby.

Her door was ajar, a sight that snapped her right back into suspicion mode. She warily peered up at the frame to make sure there wasn't a bucket of blood up there, then gave the door a tiny shove. It gave way and she inched through it, fully prepared for an ambush.

She got one.

Except it was more of a visual ambush, because damn, the girl on her bed looked like she stepped out of a Victoria’s Secret catalog.

“Took you long enough.” Dahlia shot Jaida a sexy smile that said you’re about to get lucky, baby girl. “I was giving you five more minutes before I took off.”

“I made it just in time then.” Jaida’s gaze swept over her drool-worthy outfit, and then she drawled, “Aw, babe, is that all for me?”

Her brown eyes darkened seductively. “You know it, baby.”

Jaida was well aware that she and Dahlia sounded like characters from a cheesy porno. But come on, when a sapphic woman walks into her bedroom and finds a woman who looked like that? She was willing to reenact any trashy scene she wanted.

Dahlia and Jaida first hooked up over the summer, out of convenience more than anything else because they both happened to be in the area during the break. They hit the bar a couple times, one thing led to another, and the next thing Jaida knew she was fooling around with a hot sorority girl. But it fizzled out before midterms started, and aside from a few flirtly texts here and there, she hadn't seen Dahlia until now.

“I figured you might want to have some fun before practice starts up again,” she said, her manicured fingers toying with the tiny blue bow in the center of her bra.

“You figured right.”

A smile curved her lips as she rose to her knees. Her tits were practically pouring out of the lace. She crooked a finger at Jaida. “C’mere.”

“I think you’re a tad overdressed,” she remarked, then tugged on the zipper of Jaida’s jeans and a moment later she too was standing only in lace underwear. Dahlia peppered Jaida’s neck and breasts with kisses and Jaida sighed in satisfaction. Nothing felt better than this. Nope, she was wrong. Dahlia’s tongue came into play, and holy shit, it was even better.

Around an hour later, Dahlia snuggled up beside Jaida and rested her head on her chest. Both pairs of lingerie were strewn on the bedroom floor. The cuddling made Jaida apprehensive, but she couldn’t exactly shove her away and demand she hit the road, not when she clearly put a lot of effort into this seduction. But that worried her too. Dahlia’s next words validated her uneasy thoughts.

“I missed you, baby.”

Jaida’s first thought was shit.

Her second thought was why?

Because in all the time they’d been hooking up, Dahlia hadn’t made a single effort to get to know her. If they weren’t having sex or making out, she just spoke non-stop about herself. Jaida didn’t think she’d asked her a personal question about herself since they’d met.

“Uh…” she struggled for words, any sequence of them that didn’t consist of I, miss, you, and too. “I’ve been busy. You know, midterms.”

“Obviously. We go to the same college. I was studying, too.” There was an edge to her tone now. “Did you miss me?”

What was she supposed to say to that? She wasn’t going to lie, because that would only lead her on. But she couldn’t be a bitch about it and admit she hadn’t even crossed her mind since the last time they had hooked up.

Dahlia sat up and narrowed her eyes. “It’s a yes or no question, Jaida. Did. You. Miss. Me.”

Jaida’s gaze darted to the window. She was on the second floor and actually contemplating jumping out the window. That was how badly she wanted to avoid this conversation.

But her silence spoke volumes, and suddenly Dahlia flew off the bed, her black hair whipping in all directions as she scrambled for her clothes. “Oh my God. You are such fucking bitch! You don’t care about me at all, do you, Jaida?”

Jaida got up and made a beeline for her discarded panties. “I do care about you,” she protested. “But…”

Dahlia angrily shoved her panties on. “But what?”

“But I thought we were clear about what this was. I don’t want anything serious.” Jaida shot her a pointed look. “I told you that from the start.”

Dahlia’s expression softened as she bit her lip. “I know, but…I just thought…”

Jaida knew exactly what she thought—that she’d fall madly in love with her, and their casual hookup would transform into the fucking Notebook.

“Basketball is my entire life,” she said apologetically. “I practice six days a week, play twenty games a year—more if we make it to the post-season. I don’t have time for a girlfriend, Dahlia. And you deserve a hell of a lot more than I can give you.”

Unhappiness clouded her eyes. “I don’t want a casual fling anymore. I want to be your girlfriend.”

Another why almost flew out of Jaida, but she bit her tongue. If she’d shown any interest in her outside the carnal sense, she might believe her, but the fact that she hadn’t made Jaida wonder if the only reason she wanted a relationship with her was because she was some kind of status symbol to her.

She swallowed her frustration and offered another awkward apology. “I’m sorry. But that’s where I’m at right now.”

As Jaida zipped up her jeans, Dahlia refocused her attention on getting her clothes on. Though clothes was a bit of a stretch—all she was sporting was lingerie and a trench coat, which explained why Heidi and Jackie knew exactly what would happen when she went upstairs.

“I can’t see you anymore,” she finally said, her gaze finding Jaida’s. “If we keep doing…this…I’ll only get more attached.”

  
  


The taller girl couldn’t argue with that, so she didn’t. “We had fun, though, right?”

After a beat, she smiled. “Yeah, we had fun.”

Dahlia bridged the distance between the two of them and leaned up on her tiptoes to kiss Jaida. She kissed her back, but not with the same degree of passion as before. She kept it light. Polite. The fling had run its course, and she wasn’t about to lead her on again.

“With that said…” Her brown eyes twinkled mischievously. “Let me know if you change your mind about the girlfriend thing.”

“You’ll be the first person I call,” Jaida promised.

“Good.”

She smacked a kiss on the captain’s cheek and walked out the door, leaving her to marvel over how easy that went. Jaida had been steeling herself for a fight, but aside from that initial burst of expected anger, Dahlia had accepted the situation like a pro.

A hookup always stirred up her appetite, so she headed downstairs in search of food, and was happy to find there was still leftover rice and fried chicken courtesy of Jackie or Akeria, who were the resident chefs seeing as she and Heidi couldn’t boil water without burning it. She settled at the kitchen table shoving a piece of chicken into her mouth just as Heidi strolled in wearing nothing but her bra and knickers.

She raised a brow when she spotted Jaida. “Hey. I didn’t think I’d see you again tonight. Figured you’d be VBF.”

“VBF?” she asked between mouthfuls. Heidi liked to make up acronyms in the hopes that her friends would start to use them as slang, but half the time Jaida had no idea what she was babbling about.

Heidi grinned. “Very busy fucking.”

Jaida rolled her eyes and ate a forkful of rice.

“Seriously, sororitiy’s gone already?”

“Yup.” Jaida chewed before continuing. “She knows the score.” The score being, no girlfriends and definitely no sleepovers.

Heidi rested her forearms on the counter, her brown eyes gleaming as she changed the subject. “I can’t fucking wait for the St. Matthews’s game this weekend. Did you hear? Cracker’s suspension is over.”

That got Jaida’s attention. “No shit. She’s playing on Saturday?”

“Sure is.” Heidi’s expression turned downright gleeful. “I’m gonna enjoy seeing her face when we win!”

Brianna Cracker was Matthews’s star point guard and a complete piece of shit human being. The girl had a sadistic streak that she was not afraid to unleash on the court, and when ther teams faced off in the pre-season, she sent one of the freshman girls to the emergency room with a broken arm. Hence her three game suspension, though if it were up to Jaida, the girl would’ve been slapped with a lifetime ban from college basketball.

“You’re gonna beat her, I’ll be right there with you,”Jaida promised.

“I’m holding you to that. Oh, and next week we’ve got Kressley heading our way.”

Jaida really should’ve paid more attention to her schedule. Kressley College was number two in the area (second to Charles, of course) and their matchups were always nail-biters.

It suddenly dawned on Jaida that if she didn’t ace the French redo, she wouldn’t be on the court for the Kressley game.

“Fuck,” she mumbled.

Heidi swiped a piece of chicken off Jaida’s plate and popped it into her mouth. “What?”

She hadn't told her teammates about her grade situation yet because she’d been hoping her midterm grade wouldn’t hurt her too bad, but now it looked like fessing up was unavoidable.

So with a sigh, she told Heidi about her F in French and what it could mean for the team.

“Drop the course,” she said instantly.

“Can’t. I missed the deadline.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

The girls exchanged a glum look, and then Heidi flopped down on the seat beside Jaida and rested her chin on her hand. “Then you gotta shape up.. Study your titties off and ace this motherfucker. We need you, Jai.”

“I know.” the captain gripped her fork in frustration, then put it down, her appetite vanishing. This was her first year as captain, which was a major honor considering she was only a junior. She was supposed to follow in my predecessor’s footsteps and lead her team to another national championship, but how the hell was she meant to do that if she wasn’t on the court with them?

“I’ve got a tutor lined up,” She assured her teammate. “She’s a frickin’ genius.”

“Good. Pay her whatever she wants. I’ll chip in if you want.”

Jaida couldn’t help but grin. “Wow. You’re offering to part with all your sweet, sweet cash? You must really want me to play.”

“Damn straight. It’s all about the dream, bitch. You and me going pro, remember?”

Jaida had to admit, it was a damn nice dream. It was what she and Heidi had been talking about since they were assigned as roommates in freshman year. There was no doubt in Jaida’s mind that she’d go pro after she graduated. No doubt about Heidi getting drafted, either. The girl may have been short but she was faster than lightning and a goddamn beast on the court.

“Get that fucking grade up, Jai,” she ordered. “Otherwise I’ll get Jackie and Kiki to help me kick your ass.”

“Coach will kick it harder.” Jaida mustered up a smile. “Don’t worry, I’m on it.”

“Good.” Heidi stole another piece of chicken before wandering out of the kitchen.

Jaida scarfed down the rest of her food, then headed back upstairs to find her phone. It was time to ramp up the pressure on Nicky-not-with-an-S.


	3. three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> T/W: BRIEF MENTIONS OF SEXUAL HARASSMENT
> 
> This chapter, Jaida tries her hardest to get Nicky to tutor her.

“I really think you should change the shoulders to be a bit more, you know,  _ out there _ ,” Aiden insisted. She was like a broken record, throwing out the same unreasonable suggestions each time she moved away from her own workstation to take a peek at Nicky’s designs .

Nicky was a pacifist. She didn't believe in using fists to solve her problems, she thought organized fighting was barbaric, and the idea of war made her queasy.

Yet she was thisclose to punching Aiden Zhane in the face.

“It looks good to me.” Nicky’s tone was firm, but it was impossible to hide her annoyance.

Aiden smoothed a frustrated hand through her blunt black pixie cut and turned to Roxanne, who was fidgeting awkwardly at her own bench. “You know I’m right, Rock,” she pleaded at her. “It’ll be much more effective if Nicky makes her shoulder pads more angular.”

“Well, it’ll have an even better, quite frankly degree saving impact if it fits the brief I was given,” Nicky argued.

She was ready to rip her own hair out. She knew exactly what Aiden was up to. She wanted to best fit the brief they’d been set. She had been pulling shit like this with everyone on the course ever since they'd been set the brief, doing everything she could to single out her own collection while shoving everyone else into the background.

“Rock?” Aiden prompted monotonously, glaring at the girl.

“Um…”

“Maybe Aiden is right,” Rock murmured, avoiding Nicky’s eyes as she betrayed her. “Why don’t you try larger shoulder pads, Nicky? Let’s just do it once and see which one works better.”

For fucks sake! Nicky wanted to shout, but bit her tongue. Like her, Rock had been forced to deal with Aiden’s outrageous suggestions and “brilliant” ideas for weeks now, and she couldn’t blame her for trying to strike a compromise.

“Fine,” she grumbled. “But I’m only doing  _ one _ 5 minute sketch.”

Triumph lit in Aiden’s eyes, but it didn't stay there long, because after Nicky drew out the design and draped some fabric, it was clear that her suggestion sucked. The shoulders were disproportionately large, and while it could’ve worked well on other garments, it definitely wasn’t right for this one.

“I think Nicky should stick to the original key.” Rock looked at Aiden and bit her lip, as if she was afraid of her reaction.

But although the girl was arrogant, she wasn’t  _ that  _ stupid and heartless. “Fine,” she snapped. “Do it your way, Nicky, I was only trying to help.”

Nicky ground her teeth. “Thank you.”

Fortunately, their hour was up, which meant the studio was about to belong to one of the senior classes. Eager to get out of there, Nicky quickly gathered her sketchbook and pattern pieces and slipped into her pea coat. The less time she had to spend with Aiden, the better.

A heavy sigh echoed behind her. She turned around and realized Rock was still at her desk, still biting her lip.

“I’m sorry, Nicky,” she said softly. “I agreed with you from the beginning, it’s just that Aiden’s so difficult.”

Nicky’s annoyance thawed when she noticed how anxious she was. “It wasn’t you who made Aiden such a dick”

She smiled meekly. “Yeah, I guess. See you tomorrow?”

“Yep. Four o’clock sharp.”

I give her a little wave, then leave the choir room and head outside.

One of Nicky’s favourite things about Charles was the campus. The buildings, ancient and covered with strands of ivy, were connected to each other by cobblestone paths lined with sweeping elms and wrought-iron benches. The university was one of the oldest in the country, and its alumni roster contains dozens of influential people, including many big names in sport and the arts.

But the best thing about Charles was how safe it was. The crime rate was next to zero, which probably had a lot to do with Dean Visage’s dedication to the safety of her students. The school invested a ton of money in security in the form of strategically placed cameras. Not that it was a prison or anything. In all honesty, she barely noticed them when she was wandering around campus.

Nicky’s dorm was a five-minute walk from the studio, and she breathed a sigh of relief when she walked through Bristol Hall’s massive oak doors. It had been a long day, and all she wanted to do was take a hot shower and crawl into bed.

The space she shared with Widow was more of a suite than a regular dorm room, which was one of the perks of being upperclassmen. They had two bedrooms, a small common area, and an even smaller kitchen. The only downside was the communal bathroom they shared with the four other girls on their floor, but luckily none of them were slobs, so the toilets and showers usually stayed squeaky clean.

“Hey. You’re back late.” Nicky’s roommate poked her head into her bedroom, sucking on the straw poking out of her glass. She was drinking something orange and absolutely gross looking, but it was a sight she’d grown accustomed to. Widow had been “juicing for the bants” the past two weeks, which meant that every morning Nicky woke up to the deafening whir of her blender as she prepared her icky liquid meals for the day.

“I had a studio slot.” Nicky kicked off her shoes and tossed her coat on the bed, then proceeded to strip down to her underwear despite the fact that Widow was still in the doorway.

Once upon a time, she had been too shy to get naked in front of her. When they shared a double in freshman year, she spent the first few weeks changing under my blanket or waiting until Widow left the room. But the thing about college was, there was no such thing as privacy, and sooner or later you just had to accept that. She still remembered how embarrassed she was the first time she saw Widow’s bare breasts, but the girl had zero modesty, and when she’d caught her staring, she just winked and said, “I’ve got it going on, huh?”

After that, Nicky didn’t bother with the under-the-blanket routine anymore.

“So listen…”

Her casual opening raised Nicky’s guard. She’d lived with Widow for two years. Long enough to know that when she started a sentence with “So listen,” it was usually followed by something she didn’t want to hear.

“Hmmm?” She said as she grabbed her bathrobe from the hook on the door.

“There’s a party at Sigma house on Wednesday night.” Her dark brown eyes took on a stern glint. “You’re coming with me.”

Nicky groaned. “A sorority party? No way.”

“Yes way.” She folded her arms over her chest. “Midterms are over, so you don’t get to use that as an excuse. And you promised you’d make an effort to be more social this year.”

Nicky had promised that, but she didn’t like parties.

She was touched at a party.

She hated that use of the word. Touched. It almost made it sound like a good thing which was like a bone-jarring slap to the face to Nicky. It felt ugly and demoralizing, and she tried so hard to not to let it control her life. She’d worked through what happened to her. She really had.

She knew it wasn’t her fault. She knew she didn’t ask for it or do something to invite it. It didn’t steal her ability to trust people or cause her to fear every man that crossed her path. Years of therapy helped her see that the burden of blame lay solely on him. There was something wrong with him. Not Nicky. Never Nicky. And the most important lesson she learned was that she was not a victim—She was a survivor.

But that wasn’t to say the assault didn’t change her.. It absolutely did. There was a reason she carried pepper spray in her purse. There was a reason she didn’t drink in public or accept beverages from anyone, not even Widow, because there was always a chance she might unwittingly be handing her a cup that had been tampered with.

And there was a reason she didn’t go to many parties. She guessed it was her version of PTSD. A sound or a smell or a glimpse of something harmless made the memories spiral to the surface. She heard music blaring and loud chatter and raucous laughter. She could smell stale beer and sweat. She was in a crowd of people. And suddenly she was fifteen years old again and right back at Scarlet Envy’s party, trapped in her own personal nightmare.

Widow softened her tone when she saw her roomate’s distressed face. “We’ve done this before, Nicks. It’ll be like all those other times. You’ll never be out of my sight, and neither of us will drink a single drop. I promise.”

  
  


Shame tugged at Nicky’s gut. Shame and regret and a touch of awe, because man, she truly was an incredible friend. She didn’t have to stay sober and remain vigilant just to make Nicky feel comfortable, but she did it every time they went out, and Nicky loved her deeply for it.

But she hated that she had to do it.

“Okay,” Nicky relented, not just for her sake, but her own. She had promised her she’d be more social, but she had also promised herself that she would make an effort to try new things this year. To lower her guard and stop being so damn afraid of the unfamiliar. A sorority party might not have been her idea of a great time, but who knows, maybe she’d end up enjoying it.

Widow’s face brightened. “Yess! And look, I didn’t even have to play my best card.”

“What best card?” Nicky asked suspiciously.

A grin lifted the corners of Widow’s mouth. “Jan is going to be there.”

Nicky’s pulse sped up. “How do you know?”

“Because Crystal and I ran into her in the dining hall and she said she’ll be there. I guess a bunch of her group were already planning on coming.”

“You know, Nicks, it’s weird. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m totally on board with you crushing on someone. But I just don’t understand how you, of all people, are into a girl like Jan.”

Discomfort climbed up Nicky’s spine. “Jan is…she’s not like the rest of them. She’s different.”

“Says the girl who’s never spoken a single word to her.”

“She’s different,” Nicky insisted. “She’s smilier and dedicated and kind. Oh, and she’s smart—I saw her reading Hemingway in the quad last week.”

“It was probably a required reading.”

“It wasn’t.”

Widow narrowed her eyes. “How do you know that?”

Nicky felt the blush rising in her cheeks. “Some girl asked her about it in class the other day, and she told her Hemingway is her favorite author.”

“Oh my God. You’re eavesdropping on her conversations now? You’re such a creeper.” Widow heaved out a sigh. “Okay, that’s it. Wednesday night you’re exchanging actual dialogue with the girl.”

“Maybe,” Nicky said noncommittally. “If the opportunity arises…”

“I’ll make it arise. Seriously. We’re not leaving that house until you talk to Jan. I don’t care if it’s just you saying hey, how are ya. You’re talking to him.” She jabbed her finger in the air. “Settled?”

Nicky snickered.

“Settled?” she repeated in a strict tone.

After a beat, Nicky released a defeated breath. “Settled.”

“Good. Now hurry up and take a shower so we can watch a couple episodes of Mad Men before bed.”

“One episode. I’m too exhausted for any more than that.” Nicky grinned at her roommate. “Settled?”

“Settled,” she grumbled before waltzing out of the room.

Nicky chuckled to herself as she gathered the rest of her shower supplies, but she was sidetracked yet again—she had barely taken two steps to the door when a sheep baaed in her purse. The high-pitched drone was the ringtone she chose for text messages because it was the only one annoying enough to get her attention.

She set her toiletry case on the dresser, rifled through her bag until she located her cell phone, then scanned the message on the screen.

Hey, it’s Jaida. Wanted to work out the details re: tutoring schedule xxx

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

Nicky didn’t know whether to laugh or groan. The girl was tenacious, she’d give her that. Sighing, she quickly shot back a text, short and not at all sweet.

Nicky: How did you get this number?

Jaida: Study group signup sheet xx

Fuck. Nicky had signed up for the group at the start of the semester, but that was before she found out she had studio time on Mondays and Wednesdays at the exact time the study group met up.

Another message popped up before she could respond, and whoever said it wasn’t possible to detect a person’s tone via text was totally wrong. Because Jaida’s tone, punctuated with many many x’s, was full on irritable.

Jaida: If u just showed up to study grp, I wouldn’t have to text u xxx

Nicky: U don’t have to text me at all. Actually, I’d prefer if u didn’t.

Jaida: What’ll it take to get u to say yes? xx

Nicky: Absolutely nothing.

Jaida: Great. So you’ll do it for free. xxx

The groan Nicky had been holding slips out.

Nicky: Not happening.

Jaida: How bout tmrw night? I’m free at eight xxx

Nicky: Can’t. I have the Spanish Flu. Highly contagious. I just saved your life, bitch.

Jaida: Aw, I appreciate the concern. But I’m immune to pandemics that wiped out 40-mil ppl from 1918 to 1919 xoxo

Nicky: How is it u know so much about pandemics?

Jaida: I take history, baby. I know tons of useless facts xx

Again with the baby thing? Clearly it was time to put an end to this before she got her flirt on.

  
  


Nicky: Well, nice chatting with u. Good luck on the makeup exam.

When several seconds ticked by and Jaida didn’t respond, Nicky gave herself a mental pat on the back for successfully getting rid of her.

She was about to walk out the door when a picture message baa-ed out of her phone. Against her better judgment, she clicked on it, and a moment later, a lacy black bra filled her screen. 

Nicky couldn’t help but snort out loud.

Nicky: FFS. Did u just send me a pic of your bra?!

Jaida: Yup. Did it work? xx

Nicky: In icking me out? Yes. Success!

Jaida: In changing your mind. I’m trying to butter u up here xxx

Nicky: Ew. Go butter up someone else. PS—I’m tweeting that pic.

Jaida: Go for it. I’m sure loads of people would love to see xxxxx

Nicky: Lose this number, girl I mean it.

She didn’t wait for a response. She just tossed her phone on the bed and went to take a shower.


End file.
